


Second best to this ghost

by thesaddestboner



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Angst, Double Drabble, M/M, Melodrama, New Jersey Devils, New York Rangers, Not!Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He's made me what I am.” / “You give him too much credit[.]”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second best to this ghost

**Author's Note:**

> I got egged on into writing a hockey _Phantom_ AU a while ago by a friend who’s no longer in the fandom. /shakes fists
> 
> Sean Avery was going to be Christine, Martin Brodeur was the phantom, and Henrik Lundqvist was Raoul (whom I feel has always gotten the short shrift in fandom but I digress). Marty was going to lurk in the bowels of the arena and I swear to god it wasn't as ridiculous and crack-y as it sounds now.
> 
> I still want to write this idea, but this bit got cut.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

“I was a nobody until him,” Sean said, twisting away from Hank's outstretched hand. He turned and crossed his arms over his chest. It was still bitter cold, wind biting at his cheeks, drawing tears. “He's made me what I am.”

“You give him too much credit,” Hank said softly at Sean's back. “He's no great master. He's just a man.”

Sean whirled around on Hank, setting his jaw. “How would you know? You've never seen him. Nobody has—but me.”

“Sean, he's got you wrapped around his little finger. You can't see the forest for the trees.” Hank shook his head and looked away, as if Sean were too pitiful a sight to behold.

“You wouldn't understand,” Sean insisted. “I was nothing special until he found me, shaped me. I need him.”

“God, listen to yourself,” Hank said. “You sound—you sound _obsessed_. Like you're...” He trailed off, sounding breathless, like he'd been punched in the chest. “Are you in love with him?”

“ _What_? Now you're just being dumb,” Sean said.

“I am being serious. Are you?” Hank tightened his mouth.

After a few interminably long moments of silence, Sean said, “I'm _not_ in love with him.”

“Are you so sure of that,” Hank asked, laughing sharply. It was a discordant, ugly sound. It sounded wrong coming from him.

“I love _you_ ,” Sean said.

“The way you talk about him, the way you look when you have his name on your tongue...” Hank shook his head and rubbed a hand through his hair. “I feel like I'm only second best to this—this ghost.”

“Don't be dumb, Hank.” Sean reached out and touched him on the shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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